


One Ignorant Bard and His Witcher.

by The20sBard



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bath, Immortal Jaskier, Jaskier is Immortal, Jaskier is part elf, M/M, Sharing a Room, and also unaware, fluffy fluff fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:20:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The20sBard/pseuds/The20sBard
Summary: Jaskier realizes he isn't aging, and panics. This leads to some revelations. Geralt helps.(Sorry, I'm nonsense at summaries.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 21
Kudos: 1185





	One Ignorant Bard and His Witcher.

**Author's Note:**

> This is officially my first fanfic ever. You have been warned.
> 
> (also, I own nothing, sadly enough.)

It was raining, like it has been for the past two days. Not even properly, but that annoying sort of drizzle that's just enough to get everything damp and uncomfortable. The path had turned into a trail of squelching mud beneath their feet.

Jaskier muttered curses under his breath, pushing back his wet, brown locks from his brow. Beside him, Roach trudged along in silence, evidently as annoyed and done with the shitty weather. Geralt, who was riding on Roach and wearing a thick, dark cloak which kept him relatively comfortable and dry, sighed.

"What the fuck did you do with your cloak, Jaskier?" Geralt knew for a fact that he had one; it was the only drab and dark piece of clothing Jaskier owned. Geralt had got it for him years ago, and he had always used it.

Jaskier cursed a bit louder. "It's ancient, Geralt. Wearing it serves no purpose. It just gets as wet as it can and _clings_ , which is worse. We got it ages ago. I'm actually surprised it lasted so long, given what you payed for it."

Geralt grunted.

"Well, I know we're close to a town, and we'll be there in an hour at most, despite our snail-like pace. No arguments, Geralt. After the cockatrice we found in the last cave, even you can't suggest cozying up in another. We have enough coin. And, its a decently big town. You'll get some work there. "

Geralt scowled, remembering last night's encounter. The cockatrice would have snapped him up from behind with no warning, we're it not for the Bard noticing it and promptly warning him. The pot he had flung at it to buy Geralt time had also served its purpose. Oh, they did need to buy a new pot.

"Hmm."

"Oh thank the gods. I can't wait-" Jaskier launched into a praise of all the worldly pleasures awaiting them, which Geralt did his best to block out as they rode on.  
  


The Inn they came upon first was as good as any they had been to, if not better. Once he was sure there was no danger of the innkeeper being hostile, Geralt headed to the stables to get Roach settled in while jaskier settled the matter of their lodging.  
As he walked in through the front door, Geralt was not surprised to see the Bard seated quietly at a table. He had know him long enough to tell he was in no mood to regale the moderately packed audience now.

Sliding into the seat beside him, Geralt scanned the other patrons as Jaskier resumed his chattering.  
"Oh, I aldready ordered for both of us. I also got us just the one room, because we don't really have much coin right now. I'm in no state to perform today, but I can resume that tomorrow. But tonight, we'll have to share. Also, you.. "

The Witcher slid a little bit closed to him, noticing that Jaskier was still soaked and shivering a bit despite the relatively warm surroundings."We have to get you a new cloak. A good one this time."

A small smile quirked up Jaskier's soft lips.

"Why, Geralt, I am touched. Well, that would be welcome. Although I doubt if we have funds for that now. I'm no old man who can't handle the elements for a while."

Their meal arrived at that moment, and Geralt was busy sating his hunger for several minutes when he sensed that something was wrong. Swallowing his last spoonful, he realised what it was. The silence.

Well, the Inn was noisy as ever. But the bard had gone entirely quiet and still. He did tend to do that once every while, when he was exhausted to his bones or rarely when he was sulking with his friend. However, Geralt was puzzled when he eyed the Bard.

Jaskier's brilliant blue eyes had gone very round, and he hadn't touched a morsel of his meal - strange, considering Geralt had heard his stomach growl at least five times in the last hour - and his lips were parted in what appeared to be shock, as he stared down at the table.

"What's wrong Jaskier?"

No response.

"Jaskier. " Geralt spoke a little louder . He wasn't one to initiate physical contact (Jaskier did enough of that for both of them), but desperate times called for desperate measures. He placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

Jaskier's gaze shot up to meet his. He looked absolutely confounded and bewildered. "Geralt, how long have we been travelling together now?"

Geralt frowned. Someone like him who lived for centuries, didn't really keep track of the years very well.  
"I don't know. Couple of decades atleast. Why?"

"Do you remember when we first met?"

Geralt couldn't help his lips quirking up at the memory. "Of course I do."

Jaskier waved his hand impatiently. "What about me, Geralt? How was I then?"

"Exactly the same. Stupidly daring and outspoken. You even look exactly as you did then."

"There! See!?" Geralt frowned. Jaskier went on, his voice and mannerisms getting increasingly frantic. "Don't you see, you've said it yourself, you great dumbo. It's been twenty years and _I still look the same."_

Geralt continued to frown uncomprehendingly.

"You're dense as _mule_ , Geralt! Don't you see what's happening? Or, more like what's NOT happening!? OH, wait. Did _you_ do something? Oh sweet Melitele, if you did, i-"

"For fuck's sake, Jaskier! Tell me what's the matter with you!"

"You really mean to say you don't get it. "

"Yes. I don't."

Sighing exasperatedly, Jaskier took Geralt's hand, the one on his shoulder, and held it. Looking at the bright blue eyes holding his gaze with an unusual gravity, Geralt fought the urge to slide closer. It took a moment for the bard's words to sink in.

"I'm not ageing, Geralt."

Geralt blinks.

"Wait. What do you mean?"

"I mean, I am forty years old, and still look the same as I did when I was eighteen!" the Bard whispered fiercely.

"Is..... Uh, is that unusual?"

"Do you live under a rock!? I'm human, Witcher! Humans grow old, and eventually die. Usually in about 50 to 60 years, little more if we're lucky."

Geralt grimaced as he processed the bard's words. They needed to talk, as soon as possible. He should've guessed Jaskier was clueless, because his bard would never have been able to keep quiet about it for so long otherwise.

" Fuck. "

" Geralt! What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you, Jaskier." He sighed. "Just.... come on, we're continuing this in the room."

Balancing Jaskier's untouched plate with one hand, he more or less dragged the stumbling, vaguely terrified bard up the stairs.

Once they were inside, Geralt released Jaskier and shut the door. Placing the food on a small table just beside the door, he turned around slowly to face the man hovering about, barely a few feet away. He was looking so bewildered and panicked, those stupidly attractive blue eyes fixed on him in anticipation.

See, the thing was, Jaskier was part elf.

And Geralt had smelt it on him ever since they'd met. He had just taken it in stride, and assumed that the reason none of them ever talked about It was because 1. It really didn't bother either of them, or 2. It was a sensitive issue. Elves weren't always welcome in society, much like Witchers. Geralt had often fleetingly thought that the bard was lucky to pass as entirely human, and never had to face the same sort of ostracization as he did.

He had always wondered what magical attributes Jaskier would have, if any, due to the elven blood. His singing was quite wonderful (Geralt had to grudgingly admit so to himself after a while; it was a fact.), but definetly no magic involved there, just natural ability. After the first decade or so, Geralt had been quite certain that the bard's gift was considerably longer lifespan than a normal human's. Maybe even immortality, like pure elves had.

But he'd never actually got about to asking him. Geralt had decided to let the topic be until Jaskier himself brought it up. It was for the best, he'd told himself.

The one reason for the silence Geralt hadn't expected was that Jaskier was clueless of his heritage. And dumb enough to not notice his gift for over two decades. And looking at the current turn of events, this appeared to be true. There was nothing else to do except to tell the truth.

Geralt took a deep breath. Gripping Jaskier by his shoulders, he led the man backwards and sat him down on the edge of the bed gently. Kneeling, he got down so they were at the same level .

Jaskier frowned. "Geralt? What-"

"You have elven blood, Jaskier."

The only response he got for the next few seconds was a blank, wide eyed stare. Then, Jaskier smacked him on his arm, which was quite the unexpected reaction.

"This isn't the time to joke, Geralt! What's up with me? Oh wait, is it that witch, Yennefer? Is this a side effect or something of healing me?"

Shaking his head, Geralt once again gripped his shoulders. "Jaskier. I'm not joking. I thought you knew."

He shook his head. "It can't be. I know who my parents are."

"It wasn't necessarily an elven parent. I think it's a couple generations back?"

Jaskier stared at the floor. "That would mean one of my parents was......."

".......half elven."

He looked shell-shocked.  
"But..... But I..... They were ordinary people, Geralt. completely normal. No magic at ALL. "

"Elven blood isn't always apparent in people. Several people go their their entire lives without knowing."

Jaskier buried his face in his palms, elbows rested on his thighs. His voice was muffled as he asked, "Geralt? How do you know about it when I myself don't?"

"I can smell it."

Jaskier fixed him with a weary gaze. "Of course. You can smell it." He sighed deeply, and fell onto the bed on his back. "Oh, bloody hell."

Geralt got off his knees and perched on the edge of the bed beside him.  
"Well, it's not that bad, if you come to think of it."

Jaskier made a noise somewhere between a whine and a grunt.  
Geralt felt his lips quirk up at the uncharacteristically not-so-eloquent response. He went on, "If there's anyone who should despair, it'll be me."

"Oh, really? Pray, tell why."

"I'll have to put up with your maudling for decades, maybe even centuries."

Jaskier seems to reflect on it for a few moments, and a slow smile spread across his face. Geralt couldn't help but think that he looked beautiful.

He looked up at Geralt, blue eyes twinkling, and said," Well, that means I get to stay by your side for a long, long time. The future doesn't look so bleak afterall, Geralt."

They held one another's gaze for a few beats. Geralt could feel his heart beat faster - almost as fast as a human's - as the implication of Jaskiers's words sank in.

His head was swimming. He had known for atleast a few years now that he cared for Jaskier immensely. He knew it when he had been unable to sleep for an entire week, cursing himself for his harsh words after the dragon hunt. And when he hunted the Bard down a few towns over to give the most heartfelt apology he had ever managed.

Jaskier hadn't gone easy on him, but after a few months they had fallen into their usual pattern. Geralt had pushed all thoughts of wanting to feel him close, to be able to kiss him, hold him, let down all pretense of the uncaring, stonehearted witcher (which was futile, since Jaskier was well aware of what a farce it was) into a remote corner of his heart and locked it away.

Jaskier had always had a blatant disregard for all and any inhibitions or the concept of personal space around Geralt. Hell, the man had literally bathed him multiple times. Over the years, Geralt had gradually gotten used to it, and now quite enjoyed what he could get. He was afraid to ask for more. He never knew what to make of it, and didn't dare ask Jaskier himself.

But now, what Jaskier said hit differently. While spending centuries at his prime seemed to freak Jaskier out to no end, just the thought of spending all that time with Geralt had been enough to make him joyous enough to smile the way he was now.

Gods, he was beautiful.

Geralt didn't know what would've happened if the silence had gone on any longer. Abruptly, Jaskier cleared his throat and sat upright. "Well, I also won't be wasting any more on my extensive skincare routine, so there's that!" He chuckled nervously. Without meeting Geralt's eyes, he walked over and retrieved his dinner. Digging into it, he mumbled "The bath I asked for will be ready just about now. You should go before it cools down." He refused to meet Geralt's eyes. 

Geralt almost felt his heart sinking steadily. Carefully keeping his face devoid of any emotion, he got up and marched to the adjacent room which contained the bath.

He went through the motions of getting into the bath automatically, while trying to think through the whirling thoughts flooding his mind.

How did he manage to convince himself, even for a moment, that Jaskier liked him? Of course he did, as a friend. But as anything more? It was a ridiculous, fleeting though. The moment they had had seemed different. But Geralt blocked any such ideas; the bard's reaction to it was answer enough.

As he was soaking and relaxing in the bath, the door creaked open and Jaskier strode right in, up to the bath. Before geralt could react, he sat himself down on a stool behind Geralt, and commenced massaging his aching muscles. Being inside for a while had warmed him up a bit, but his hands were still a bit colder than they usually were.

Fighting the instinct to relax into the touch, Geralt turned around to face the bard. "Your hands are cold. You should take a warm bath."

There was something new, and incomprehensible in Jaskier's eyes. After a moment of hesitation, he got up. "Right then, scoot over. This one's big enough for two, and we don't have the coin to pay for another anyway."

This wasn't the first time they had done it. But Geralt felt himself fidget in his spot as Jaskier undressed and sat himself right opposite to him. This time was different. There was a palpable change between them after their last conversation. Geralt watched silently as the bard chewed on his lip ; years of knowing him told Geralt it was a nervous tick. When he suddenly stopped, Geralt pulled his eyes away from the sight as he realized Jaskier was going to say something.

He was in no state to talk about anything right now.

Geralt abruptly got up and grabbed a towel. Jaskier called after him, but he walked out into the bedroom and busied himself in drying off.

He had settled down on one side of the bed, back turned away from the other side, and consequently, from the door. He heard Jaskier come out a little while later, and slide into his half of the bed.

Initially, if they didnt have enough coin to get two rooms, one of them would sleep on the floor. But after a while they had settled into a routine of simply sharing the bed. If there was anyone who suffered due to it, it was Geralt, because Jaskier had the tendency to spread out in the night and splay himself across the bed like an octopus by morning, and Geralt ended up curled up precariously in a corner or, in a rare occasion, even tangled up himself.

Even after 22 years or travelling together, they weren't one for pillow talk. They were usually out the minute they were in bed, exhausted from the hunting and travelling.

That's why Geralt was caught unawares when Jaskier spoke. "Geralt, we need to talk." His voice sounded as though he was making an effort to keep it steady.

Geralt, like a true idiot, pretended to be asleep. But jaskier was relentless.

"Geralt, I know you're not asleep. I can tell. Please, talk to me."

Sighing in defeat, Geralt turned about and sat up. "What is it?"

Jaskier sat up as well, facing him. "You know very well what it is. Don't you dare act dumb."

"It was nothing Jaskier. Go to sleep."

"Like hell It was nothing!" Geralt nearly winced at the reprimanding tone. "You don't look at a friend like that when you realize you get to spend centuries with them."

Geralt felt his gut drop. Maybe it was better for both of them if he just confessed. The thought of losing Jaskier forever was dreadful, but he deserved to know.

" You're right. I think....... Jaskier, I care for you. Not just as a friend. I........ I love you. Have done so since quite some time, but it hit me only when I drove you away, after the dragon hunt." He paused, and looked up to see Jaskier's reaction. The Bard was gaping at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Before he could give any other response, Geralt continued," Now, I know you feel differently about this. It probably makes you really uncomfortable, and I won't blame you. I should have told you earlier. I'm sorry." he felt each word weighing down his heart, waiting for Jaskier to leave him.

After a moment of heavy silence, Jaskier snapped his moth shut. Then the most unexpected thing happened.

Jaskier shuffled forward quickly, muttering under his breath. "You stupid, stupid witcher."

And before Geralt understood what was happening, his hands framed Geralt's face. He could feel Jaskier's warm breath as he whispered, "Don't you dare apologise."

And then, Jaskier kissed him.

Geralt's mind took a second to kick into gear and realize what was happening. As he responded eagerly, a hand slid into his hair and Jaskier deepened the kiss.

Geralt had placed his hands on Jaskier's waist, and as the bard slid in his tongue, Geralt couldn't hold back a low moan. He tightened his grip and dragged Jaskier forward till he was basically in Geralt's lap.

The kiss was deep, gentle and _oh_ so hot. They broke apart, and oh gods. Geralt's breath caught in his throat.

Jaskier was a sight to behold, and made his heart skip a beat. The pupils of those blue eyes were blown wide, this lips slick and red from the kissing, and his hair in glorious disarray from Geralt's hand running through it.

"There's your answer, Geralt. I'm not going anywhere."

And Geralt couldn't help but kiss him again.

This time when they settled down to sleep, they were tangled up in each other right from the beginning.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
